It is 200 years since Scottish Presbyterian settlers last lectured South Africans on the perils of the demon drink. But while its missionaries may be long gone, it seems Scotland has not given up the fight. SA’s plans to introduce a minimum price per unit of alcohol is a Scottish experiment that owes more to ideology than it does to economics.
In 2018 Scotland became the first country in the world to introduce a minimum price per unit of alcohol (MUP). The aim: raise the cost of the cheapest alcoholic drinks to curb problem consumption. At the time, alcohol-related harm was estimated to cost the economy £2.5bn-£4.6bn (R60bn — R110bn) a year in health spending and policing. Public Health Scotland, the country’s primary healthcare body, championed MUP as a radical public policy solution, one that built on a progressive reputation for implementing the UK’s first smoking ban.
Industry reaction was mixed. Large retailers saw a chance to goose their margins by pocketing the price difference, while some domestic drinks producers hoped pricier imports would clear space on the shelves. But others viewed it as a dangerous precedent. If doctors can dictate a minimum price for alcohol, how quickly before that principle is tested in product formulations, on serving sizes, licensing hours or promotions and advertising?
It fell to economists and civil liberties groups to raise the loudest objections. They argued that MUP would be highly regressive: it hits lower-income households hardest because they are more likely to buy value brands from supermarkets and off-licences. Higher-income drinkers — who consume alcohol in bars and restaurants where prices are already well above the minimum — would be insulated.
They also noted that demand for alcohol is unusually inelastic. In simple terms, heavier drinkers change their habits less than moderate drinkers when prices rise, meaning the policy punishes responsible consumers far more than the group it’s supposed to target.
Faced with these concerns, the Scottish government pressed on regardless. If the responsible majority had to drink less or pay more to maintain their lifestyle that was, in their view, a reasonable trade-off for the potential improvements in health outcomes and behaviour among a feckless minority.
Six years on from its introduction, the results are in — and they make uncomfortable reading for the policy’s advocates. A 2021 evaluation by the University of Manchester found “no statistically significant changes” in alcohol-related crime and disorder trends after MUP was introduced — except in one local authority — where crime increased.
As we stand today, the inescapable conclusion is that Scotland’s adherence to MUP has ceased to be evidence-based: it’s ideological.
A separate peer-reviewed study on accident and emergency visits found no reduction after the policy began. In fact, it suggested MUP may have been associated with 258 more alcohol-related visits. Research on consumption also showed only a small decline — less than one unit of alcohol per drinker per week. The equivalent of one small glass of wine.
The Scottish government commissioned its own impact study, which appeared to tell a different story. Since its introduction MUP reduced alcohol-related deaths by 13.4% and hospital admissions by 4.1%. But since then Drinkaware, the UK’s leading alcohol charity, has found that the proportion of high-risk drinkers in Scotland declined by just 0.1% between 2017 and 2022. Consumption among this group fell by 1.3% — only slightly more than a similar decline in England, where MUP does not exist.
Undeterred by the evidence piling up against MUP, the Scottish government launched a consultation last year on keeping it. At its conclusion only two-fifths of respondents supported keeping the policy, a group that included church groups, evangelical organisations and even the British Dental Association. The rest — a clear majority — opposed it, citing its failure to deliver meaningful results despite its cost to consumers.
Was the Scottish government daunted by these results? Not a bit of it. Not only did it keep the policy, it hiked the minimum price by 30% in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis. The decision was cynically supported by many of Scotland’s retailers.
As we stand today, the inescapable conclusion is that Scotland’s adherence to MUP has ceased to be evidence-based: it’s ideological. But this radical agenda in social reform has not been rewarded at the ballot box. In the 2024 election the governing Scottish National Party lost 39 parliamentary seats and 15% of the vote.
For SA the lesson is hopefully clear. MUP may appear a beguilingly simple solution to problem drinking, but it’s no substitute for targeted, evidence-based policy. It penalises responsible drinkers, does little to curb harmful drinking, and diverts political energy from more effective interventions — all while deepening the cost burden on those least able to bear it.
History shows that once governments embark on moral crusades the public quickly finds examples of hypocrisy and double standards. SA should weigh the Scottish experience carefully before importing a policy whose results — in both public health and politics — have been sobering for all the wrong reasons.
• Fairbrass is a former senior vice-president of communications at SABMiller.
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